The MAZEPUNNERS (parody)
by I Was NotA Robot
Summary: Minho just wants to get a good nights sleep, for goodness sakes. Maybe it was the brownies, or maybe it was the fact that he'd been living in the freaking Glades too long. All he knows is that people who don't belong keep popping up bloody everywhere, and he still can't sleep. WARNING: This is 90% crack, and references multiple fandoms. CRACK.


**So, this is what I came up with** _ **way**_ **too late at night. I…I'm not even sure** _ **how…**_ **or** _ **what….**_ **never mind.**

 **Note: I own nothing. I especially do not own the Mazerunner. It belongs to good old James Dashner – trust me, if I owned it, Teresa would be dead, and Brenda would be cooler. I also don't own any other of the fandoms that may or may not be referenced later on in this fic. None of them. Go figure.**

 **Just saying.**

 **Kudos to clicking. Reviews are welcome – flames are not.**

 **But you know what? Shuck it – if you're going to flame, you might as well go all the way. You have my permission.**

* * *

Once upon a time, Thomas and Minho were sitting in the Maze, shucking some corn.

Don't ask me why. They just were.

"Minho." Thomas giggled to himself. "Minho."

"What?" his friend asked him, annoyed. Thomas looked over at him with a strange smile on his face.

"Minho!" he repeated again, his smile stretching even wider. His voice was even happier this time.

"What, shuck face!" Minho snapped.

"Have you noticed all of the weird things your name goes to?" Thomas asked him.

"What are you talking about, Thomas?" the Asian boy asked, torn between annoyance, curiosity, and concern that his friend was going crazy. He wiped the dirt of his nose with his thumb. That didn't actually help, since his thumb was dirty too, and he only smeared dirt around, but he didn't know that. And if he did, he probably wouldn't care.

"Marilyn Monroe. Marilyn Minho." Thomas's smile stretched even wider on his face.

" _What?"_

"Minho. Minho…Min-bow!" Marilyn Min-bow!" Thomas cried happily, popping some of the corn into his mouth.

"…."

"Ha, ha!"

"Thomas, I'm going to ask you a question, and I want you to answer it truthfully." Minho said seriously. He waited until Thomas had stopped laughing, and looked him straight in the eyes. "Are you on drugs?"

"No…not that I can think of."

"Uh…I'm not sure if that's good new or bad news for you, Thomas. It's one thing if you're high, but if you're really just that weird…."

"Hallo, friends." Newt said, randomly popping up. Unlike the other boys, even smeared in dirt, his face was still boyishly attractive, with a dimpled smile that would melt even the hardest of hearts. In the background, an orchestra started to play, and a golden spotlight shone down on Newt.

"Hello, friend." Thomas said cheerfully. The music suddenly switched off, and the spotlight was extinguished. Booing could be heard in the background at Thomas's name.

"Hey, Newt -" Minho was cut off by Thomas.

"Newt. Nutella!"

"What's this about?" Newt inquired in his pleasant British accent.

"Thomas is acting like a shank, and messing up our names. I think he's on drugs." Minho informed him.

"Nah...We got rid of those drugs problems years ago." Newt shrugged, running a hand through his gorgeous windblown hair.

"I think Thomas is a special case." Minho said, looking over at him. Thomas was playing patty-cake with an invisible friend, and humming and muttering "taste the rainbow".

"Well, your name does go with a lot of stuff." Newt said, nodding his agreement with Thomas. Thomas responded by happily clapping his hands.

"There's not _that_ many words that rhyme with my name." Minho complained in a whiny voice. Newt started counting off words with his fingers, eyes raised up at the sky.

"Foe."

"Doe."

"Row -"

"Nope, already used that one."

"Go."

"Sew."

"Mow."

"Low."

"Ho-"

"Wait!" cried the Authoress. "I'm trying to keep this relatively PG!"

"Fine." Thomas snarled "But it's not my fault if -"

Somewhere, the sound of shattering glass was heard.

"You broke the fourth wall!" the Authoress cried. "That's the eleventh time this week!"

"It was your fault." Thomas mumbled.

"Whatever." the Authoress said, rolling her eyes. Then, with a small _pop_ noise, she disappeared back to her computer.

"Well, that was strange." Minho commented quietly. His friends both looked at him.

"Want a brownie?" Thomas asked, conjuring up a tray. He held it out on his dirtied palm, grinning cheekily.

"After you tried to call me a hoe -" Minho started, but Newt waved his arms, setting his staff up against the stone wall.

"Wait, remember what she said about language!"

"Well, shuck that."

"Shuck you."

"Shuck _you._ "

"Stop it, shank!"

"What does 'shuck' even mean?" Thomas asked. "I never really understood any of our new words – I mean, they never made any sense."

" _Nothing_ makes sense to you, Thomas." Newt said sarcastically. It was true. Thomas was always asking stupid questions, like where the bathroom was, and 'what's my name'? And sometimes it was even 'which factor is the most damaging to our modern society most'? That was a stupid question. Everyone knew that the answer was ***THE CIA DOES NOT APPROVE OF THIS MESSAGE. IT WAS BEEN DELETED AND THE PRIME SUSPECTS HAVE BEEN APPROPRIATELY APREHENDED***

"Um, I think 'shuck' can just be like, a replacement for the f-word, or something." Minho yawned, leaning his head against the wall.

"And Greenie?"

"You guys call me that all the time!" Chuck said happily. He then looked around.

"What are you doing here? _I'm_ not even supposed to be in the Maze." Newt snapped angrily, banging his staff against the ground. "But I have to, because the Authoress puts me in _all_ of her stories! It's so frustrating!"

"Jeez, and you're complaining?" Thomas mumbled. "People _hate_ on me all the time."

"Oh, gee, Thomas! That's so sad! WE'RE ALL _BLOODY_ INSPIRED!" Newt shrieked shrilly, waving his arms about.

 **In the background, fan girls screamed and beat their fists on the fourth wall.**

"Geez, Newt. You're a little _Cranky_ today." Chuck muttered. Newt glared at him fiercely.

" _CHUCK!"_ he barked. "You may have spoiled an entire book for some poor, unfortunate reader out there!" he cried.

"Fourth wall." Thomas and Minho reminded him simultaneously.

"SHUCK!"

"Too soon?" the younger boy asked meekly. The three glared at him.

"GET OUT!" they shouted, just as the Grievers showed up. Shuck.

* * *

 _"Ah!"_

Minho woke with a start, banging the back of his head against the Maze wall. _"Mother Shucker!"_ he groaned, before pausing to blink the sleep out of his eyes. He slumped against the wall in relief. "Phew…it was just a dream." he muttered to himself. "Sometimes, it's pretty exhausting to be part in such a popular fandom," Minho groaned, rubbing the side of his head with his hand. "There's so much work to be done – it gets pretty tiring after a while. Nobody really understands."

"Oh, really?" Harry Potter and Percy Jackson asked from the corner, scowling.

"Gee, I wouldn't know," Katniss remarked sarcastically, crossing her arms and tapping a foot. Minho started in surprise.

"How did all of you get here?" he exclaimed, clutching a stalk of corn to his chest. "Who are you people?"

"We're all the people from popular fandoms," Tris remarked. "Trust me, _you've_ got it easy!"

"Yeah, there's been a pretty long waiting line. It's almost as long as the lines to the bathroom in the Harry Potter Theme Park." Steve Rogers shrugged. "My entire team is still waiting!"

"Us too!" Sam and Dean chimed in together.

"And we're here because _Merlin_ messed up a spell." Arthur sniffed, while Merlin grinned sheepishly besides him.

"And whoever wrote this decided to overlook that fact that Arthur _doesn't know I have magic!"_ he added with a gritted grin on his face, attempting to subtly glance upwards.

"Oh, you wouldn't know subtle if it bit you in the bum!" Sadie Kane called, Carter nodding sympathetically behind her.

"You wouldn't either if you'd been _waiting in line_ for about _half an hour_ to participate in a story that's hardly any good!" Merlin protested. "I nearly lost half my limbs in line just for some stupid dialogue!"

"Us too!" John Watson responded wearily, patting Sherlock on the shoulder. "We were nearly crushed by a bloody TARDIS."

"Gus, am I the only one who can see this?" Shawn asked, nudging his partner's shoulder. "And am I the only one who realizes that more than half the people here are British?" Gus groaned and slapped a palm to his head.

"I wouldn't know, Shawn. I'm a pharmaceuticals salesman, remember? I was so close to getting an autograph from the Game of Thrones cast, but I ended up here instead!" he sobbed. "Why must life be so cruel?"

Minho gaped. "How many people are _in_ this dream?" he asked, horrified. He just wanted some sleep – really – one minute, _thirty seconds,_ that was all. Dream or not, this didn't qualify as 'relaxing' to him in any way, dammit.

The characters turned to him with irritated looks on their faces, and responded to his subconscious thoughts in unison.

" _ **This isn't a dream."**_

* * *

"AHHH!"

For the second time, Minho woke up, this time drenched in a cold sweat. He panted, taking in his surroundings. Same wall, same Maze. Well, that was a relief. Maybe now he could get some real sleep in. He yawned and turned himself over.

Just then, a low, graveled voice came from behind him.

"I'M BATMAN!"

"MOTHERFU -"

* * *

 **The End**

 **Well…that sucked. I hope you enjoyed! Love, Ella**


End file.
